by Adele Buck
“Sometimes I wish your parents loved you a little less, you know?”
“Or just differently.” Cath had spent the early years of her career fending off her parents’ attempts to help her. But in the end, she had used every offer of money or other assistance to strengthen her resolve to stand on her own, to live her life on her own terms. She knew all too well that accepting their money was not only not standing on her own, but ceding decisions to them. All too soon the checks would have started to come with conditions.
“Nobody is stronger or more independent than you, I think,” Paul said, his eyes warm with pride.
Cath bit her lip, remembering. “It was hard, you know.”
“What was?”
“Refusing the money. Refusing the help. Sometimes I wanted to let them lighten the load. But I knew if I let them get a toe in…I wouldn’t ever be my own person. And that’s so, so important to me.” The confession lightened the oppressive feeling that threatened to press in all around her.
“How is it that I never knew that about you? You always made it look so easy.” Paul was still, unusually so for him. Feet planted, fingertips rubbing his chin, he looked at her with a steady gaze.
“It’s never come up before, I guess. When would it?”
Paul blinked. “I guess not. It’s strange to think there are things we still don’t know about each other, though.”
“One or two surprises before you get sick of me.” She tried to smile, but her mouth wobbled at the poor attempt at a joke.
Paul looked at her for a long moment. “Don’t even say that. I won’t be possessive, but I’ll be proud as hell of standing next to you. Like I always have.”
Cath breathed a sigh of relief. He gets it. “Me too.”
Cupping her face in his hands, Paul pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “How about this: ‘For God's sake, let's take the word possess and put a brick round its neck and drown it...We can't possess one another. We can only give and hazard all we have.’”
“That’s quite a mouthful Ms. Sayers put into Busman’s Honeymoon,” she said, but she could feel her smile returning.
“Like you’re so terrible at pulling out quotations at odd moments.”
“Nobody’s as good at it as you, Paul. Maybe you should have been an actor.”
He shuddered, stepping back, the warmth of his hand dissipating on her cheek. “Perish the thought. Let’s go, I’m starving.” Starting for the door, he reached back for her hand.
Cath paused. “Do you think we should…in public? Already?”
“Are you…didn’t we agree that this wasn’t temporary?” Paul’s face was set in stoic lines that made her want to squirm with regret.
“No! Not temporary. I just…” she waved a hand, indicating the street outside. “It’s a small town. We’re bound to run into the cast, the crew. Do we want to spring it on them so soon? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
Paul’s lips pressed together and he turned to face her, hands at his sides when she wanted them on her face again. “I suppose you’re right. But after touching you all night and all morning it feels wrong to stop just because we’re leaving the house.”
Cath stepped forward and traced a gentle line down his arm with a tentative fingertip. “I know. I’m not saying I like it. Or that I want it. I just…it seems logical to be cautious. We haven’t even really talked about what this is. Aside from ‘not temporary.’”
Closing the distance between them, Paul stood for a minute, his hands slowly settling on her hips, his eyes scanning her face. “Okay,” he said.
“That’s it?” she asked, amazed by his sudden capitulation.
“Yes.”
Cath looked for any sign in expression that she had hurt him, relaxing a tiny bit when all she saw was concern. “Okay like you’re humoring me because you’re hungry and want to get breakfast, or okay like you agree with me?”
Paul’s mouth quirked sideways. “A little bit of both? Let’s go. The sooner we talk this out, the sooner I can hold your hand in public.”
Chapter 15
Paul settled into the booth at the diner as the waitress poured coffee for both of them. He lifted his menu and then lowered it to peer at Cath across the table. Her eyes met his and crinkled with cautious humor. He understood both the humor and the caution. He even appreciated the caution. It was professionally appropriate.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
But he had to see the logic of her objection. Suddenly walking hand-in-hand down Churchill’s main street with his stage manager was probably not the best way of announcing the relationship to a gossipy pack of theater folk.
Shooting a quick wink at Cath, he perused his breakfast options. Deciding, he set his menu to one side so he could watch her. Large green eyes scanning, lower lip anchored between her teeth, Cath was bringing the same concentration to deciding on her breakfast that she brought to anything: a meeting, a rehearsal…and now he knew she brought that same focus to lovemaking.
Despite everything, that fizzing emotion bubbled up in him again. He might not possess her, but he knew her. He would defy anyone to say they knew her better. He could have said he knew her better than anyone last week, but he was even more sure now. He knew what her face looked like as she concentrated on sex, what it looked like when she surrendered to passion.
Her eyes finally rested on a spot on the menu and she nodded, deciding. Placing her menu on top of his, she met his gaze almost shyly. “Paul, I’m sorry about the hand—”
“Oh aren’t you two the cutest?” Susan’s voice cut across the diner like a prison spotlight, freezing them in place. Paul leaned back and turned to see the actress advancing across the small diner, clutching James Martin’s bicep in both hands. James, Paul noticed, looked less than enthusiastic about the situation.
Glancing across at Cath, he saw she had stiffened, her jaw clenched tight. God, that woman truly makes her miserable. A sickening feeling of remorse rolled through him. He, and only he, was responsible for that. His damned “the show and to hell with everything else” attitude.
“Well, isn’t this cozy!” Susan exclaimed brightly as she and James reached the table. “I happened to run into James, and now here you are too!”
Paul’s glance flickered from Susan to James, who looked embarrassed. The actor’s eyes slid toward the door as if he was looking for an escape. Susan, oblivious to his rigid posture and obvious discomfort, shot a brilliant smile at Cath.
“Kitty-Cath, you have color in your cheeks for once. Have you finally decided to wear makeup, or have you been…naughty?” Susan’s free hand drifted up to her face, index finger tracing her lower lip, speculating.
Paul glanced at Cath, whose face had flushed deep red at Susan’s words. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to deflect Susan’s attention from Cath so she could regain her composure, but Cath beat him to it.
“It’s so interesting that you think my sex life is any of your business.”
A dull roaring in Cath’s ears seemed to drown out everything but Susan’s response to her words. For once, Susan faltered, her bright, false smile slipping as she realized she hadn’t gotten the reaction she had expected. Blinking rapidly, she turned to James, the confident smile reasserting itself.
“Oh, did you hear that? Sounds like Kitty-Cath has found a tomcat. Or maybe a Paul-cat. Isn’t that adorable?”
Pulling his arm away from Susan’s clasp, James said, “Freddie’s here. I’m meeting her for breakfast, so I’ll see you all later. Paul, Cath—nice to see you both.” Without looking at Susan again, he walked over to the door of the diner where Freddie was standing, her face wearing a worried frown that turned into an uncertain smile as James approached her.
Looking back at Susan, Cath realized the actress was at a loss for words. For once. “Susan, as delightful as it always is to see you, I’m starving and I think you’re scaring away the waitress.” Cath flashed the other woman a tight, insincere smile. “You must
know how bedroom activities can make a person ravenous. That is, if you’re actively participating. Or are you more of a ‘lie back and make him do all the work’ type?” She pretended to consider the issue, frowning thoughtfully, a finger on her chin.
Susan’s eyes narrowed and she snapped. “Well, I guess a plain girl would have to work pretty hard to compensate.” Her eyes widened as if she realized she had gone too far, but then her jaw set.
Cath waited for the jab to hurt, but somehow, instead of sticking in her like a dart, the ludicrous comment had flowed around her like water. Power surged through her and she sat up straighter. “Oh, you keep telling yourself that, Susan. But I guess you would think that beauty is more important than skill. Beauty’s temporary, though.”
Susan turned to Paul, hands on her hips. “Are you going to say anything?”
Paul lifted his eyebrows. “I fail to see what I have to say about anything. I suggest you quit while you’re behind.”
“Unbelievable.” Susan whirled and stalked out of the diner, almost knocking into Freddie who was still standing with James by the door.
“Exit, pursued by a bear,” Paul murmured.
“Winter’s Tale. Act III, Scene 3. We’ve never done stage directions before, though. That’s new. Of course, that’s not the only new thing.” Cath took a deep breath to rein in her babbling and looked at Paul. He was beaming at her, unabashed pride in his face.
“You. Were. Magnificent,” he said, his eyes shining. “What got into you?”
Shaking her head, Cath said, “I don’t honestly know. It’s like I was possessed. I had just, just had it with her. And for once, her spiteful bitchiness didn’t catch me off guard, didn’t hurt.”
“I am deeply impressed. It was a thing of beauty. I considered stepping in for half a second, but you were handling it so well. It seemed a shame to spoil your triumph.”
An embarrassed flush heated Cath’s cheeks. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me fight my own battle.”
“You didn’t need me, that was clear. Any ‘help’ from me would have been a vote of no confidence.”
Cath lifted her eyes to his. Sincerity and pride shone in their blue depths. The last of her tension over being with Paul, really with him, in public and declaring it, ebbed away.
Paul bit his lower lip, looking across the table at her, speculation in his eyes. “And so much for caution about announcing our relationship. Does this mean I can hold your hand when we walk back home?”
Picking up her menu, Cath winked. “Honey, you can grab my ass for all I care. Ding dong, the witch is dead.”
Paul’s laughter cracked out in the busy diner. Cath looked so pleased with herself, so…fired up. Glancing over at the door, he saw that Freddie and James were looking at them, turning towards one another hastily when they realized his attention was on them as well. Chuckling, he turned his attention back to Cath as he stirred cream into his coffee. “What do you think is going on with those two?” he asked, tilting his head at Freddie and James.
Cath shrugged one shoulder. “For consistency’s sake, I guess I should probably say that it’s none of my business.”
“I think between us you can be as inconsistent as you like.”
Paul watched Cath shot a speculative look at the other couple. She studied them for a few moments, then turned back. “I think they like each other but they’re not even to the stage where they’re admitting it. At least not to each other. Maybe to themselves.”
“How long do you think it will take them to admit it?”
“Hopefully not more than ten years,” she said wryly, smiling at the waitress as she came over to take their order. When the woman had departed, Paul reached both hands across the table, palms up. Cath looked at him for a long moment before sliding her fingers into his. They were slender and strong, like the rest of her.
“So, you okay?” he asked, squeezing her hands.
She cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “You’ve asked me that a lot over the last twenty-four hours.”
“Well, I’m interested in the answer. Are you?”
“In what sense?” she asked, her brows coming together in a frown.
“In any sense. In every sense. We’ve just taken a big step, emotionally and physically.”
Cath looked down at their clasped hands. “Yeah, but…I don’t know. It’s you. I trust you more than anyone. If you’re asking me if I regret it, I don’t.”
“So…you feel a lack of regret?” The back of Paul’s neck prickled with nervousness, but she squeezed his fingers.
“More than lack of regret.” A tiny, shy smile hovered around the corners of her mouth. “You make me happy, Paul.”
The prickles subsided, replaced by a warm glow of pride that flooded over his neck and into his face. “You also just dropped a pretty big house on the witch, Dorothy.”
Visibly suppressing a shudder, Cath said, “That may end up biting us in the ass. Or biting you in the ass, poor man.”
Paul mulled that over for a moment. “Not much she can do to me. Worst case scenario would also be in some ways a best case scenario: she quits. But that’s not going to happen. She wants this job on her résumé far more than I want her in the role, I’d bank on that.”
“Yeah, she’ll probably just make herself obnoxious to everybody all the way through the run. That will be tons of fun.” Cath sighed.
“She’s already doing that. We’re surviving,” Paul said.
“Oh, she’s capable of more,” Cath said.
Considering her words, Paul leaned on his elbows, his hands warm around hers. “What do you think she can actually do?” he asked.
Cath shrugged. “Hard to tell. She’s unpredictable. That’s one of the things that always made me vulnerable to her. I never knew where the next shot was coming from.”
“What changed today?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my give-a-damn is just busted.” Shooting Paul a sly smile, she said, “Maybe it was the aftereffects of a couple of earth-shaking orgasms.” She almost laughed out loud at the smug smile that comment produced.
“Earth-shaking?”
Cath pulled one hand free and pinched her thumb and forefinger until they were a fraction of an inch away. “Little bit.”
Grabbing her hand again, Paul brought it to his lips. “Seriously, though. Don’t change the subject.”
Regarding him for a moment, Cath said, “Maybe it was that I finally knew you were seeing it. That was one of the worst things about the way she used to behave—it was all covert. She was very good at needling me quietly until I broke, then making me look like I had overreacted.”
Paul regarded her in horror. “Cath, that’s awful.”
“A mean girl’s gonna mean. What are you going to do?”
“Well for one, I’m never hiring another one.”
Cath looked at him for a long moment. “And how are you going to see them coming?”
He pointed a finger at her. “You. You’re my secret weapon. You warned me about Susan and I didn’t listen. But I’m listening now. No more suffering toxic people in the quest to make great art. I’d rather have a happy cast and crew. Not to mention a happy Cath.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all, Paul. You’ve always been ‘the best for the job and damn the consequences.’”
“Oh? That changes now. New Leaf Paul, that’s me.”
The waitress arrived at that moment, and they sat back, hands separating as she slid plates onto the table, made sure they had silverware. Paul peppered his omelet liberally and dug in like a starving man.
“New Leaf Paul is hungry, I see,” Cath observed, picking up a slice of toast and breaking the yolk of her fried egg. “And did you just decide to turn over this new leaf, or is it something you’ve been thinking about?”
Paul chewed and swallowed a sip of coffee before responding. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about since we started rehearsal,” he admitted. “Hire a troublemaker, even though they’re talented, and
you spend a lot of time coping with the fallout. They may turn in a great performance, but they’re detrimental to all the other performances. I’m constantly cleaning up their messes, shoring up emotions, even dealing with my own reactions. It’s exhausting. I’d rather spend the same energy in coaching a great performance out of a slightly less talented actor than sweeping up after the damage left by someone like Susan. Granted, it took a Susan-caliber bomb for me to finally see it.”
“The damage isn’t just to the cast,” Cath said, her eyes sliding to the other side of the diner where Freddie and James sat. “You have to have noticed how Freddie behaves when Susan is around. The poor kid is terrified of her, and for good reason. As far as Susan is concerned, Freddie barely counts as a human being.”
“Well, Dorothy,” Paul said, following her glance, “it certainly looks like she may have found a wizard to give her some courage.”
To: Alicia Johnson
From: Susan Vernon
Subject: Unbelievable
You would not believe what I have just been subjected to. Cath De Courcy insulted me in front of Paul and he let her get away with it. I have never had to deal with such unprofessional behavior in my life. I was just joking around, teasing Cath the way I always have, and she was an out and out bitch to me in return.
If I didn’t love this role so much, I’d be packing my bags this instant, I can tell you. But it is an amazing part. I guess I’m going to have to put up with skinny old, horse-faced Cath D. You know what they say: you have to suffer for your art.
Oh, and by the way? It looks like Cath and Paul are banging each other. Nauseating. Talk about unprofessional.
—Susan
To: Susan Vernon
From: Alicia Johnson
Subject: RE: Unbelievable
Wow, that sounds unpleasant. I wonder what set her off? Cath’s not known for even losing her temper, let alone being an out and out bitch.
